I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a wedding, but they seem to generate as much drama as a telenovela, even when you think things will be fine.
In general, my life is amazingly drama-free these days. Everyone in my house gets along — except for Lil Wayne the dog and our new cat Cairo, who are carving out an uneasy truce.
Now that they’re young adults, my kids and I seldom squabble, unless I discover that they ate my doughnuts while I was taking my nap. That’s a firing squad offense in my house, but they usually know better than to go there.
(Some of you are thinking, “But, Marla, you have cancer. Sugar is bad for cancer.” My reply to that is, “What’s your point?” If you ever needed the comfort of chocolate and liquor, it’s when you have cancer. Enough said.)
Anyway, as you may know, my beautiful daughter Curly Girl is getting married next month, at the ripe old spinster age of 23. Do I think she’s old enough to get married? No. Has she ever listened to anything I say? No. So, we’re having a wedding at a lovely site up in the mountains.
Suddenly, all the drama you didn’t think you had rears its ugly head:
- But, wait. If we invite this person, we can’t invite her cheating soon-to-be-ex-husband. But her cheating ex-husband already made it known he wants to come.
- But, wait. This other relative has to be invited, but she’s an alcoholic who might spark an Embarrassing Incident.
- But, wait. Yet another relative is a drug addict and can’t be trusted to show up sober, yet has to be invited anyway.
- But, wait. This person is also a drug addict and might show up loaded, but she lives far away and probably can’t come anyway. Do we invite her?
Some of you are shaking your heads and thinking, “Wow, Marla, you have a lot of substance abusers in your extended family.” Yes, yes I do. And what do we do if they all show up and get into a brawl, knocking over the punch bowl and splattering it all over my daughter’s expensive wedding dress? What if the relative and her cheating ex get into a shouting match on the dance floor? Do we turn up the music? Do we take sides?
That would certainly be memorable at least. Last night, Curly Girl suggested we could hand out tickets for adult beverages, and give everyone three tickets for drinks. That way, they wouldn’t have the chance to get loaded and stage a full-blown Tennessee Williams play in front of us. (Stella!)
This is an interesting idea, but my friends are respectable winos who don’t cause drama. And they’d have a hissy fit and storm the bar if someone told them they couldn’t have another glass of chardonnay. Most of them are staying up near the wedding venue so they can guzzle as much of my liquor as possible without having to drive.
(Speaking of hissy fit, I never knew what that word meant until we got this new Siamese cat, Cairo, from the pound. He walks up to the poor sweet dog and hisses at him for no reason, then walks away. Dog is getting to the point he needs Prozac. Anyway, that’s just an aside.)
I remember one wedding I attended where the bride was afraid her stepmother, whom she called the “stepmonster,” would cause a disruption. She enlisted some of us to keep an eye on her and drag her out if necessary. Luckily, the stepmonster — who has since passed on — decided to behave herself that night.
I guess our drama is pedestrian compared to some. One of my friends was heartbroken because her staunch Catholic parents refused to come to the ceremony, because it took place on top of a hill outdoors instead of in a church. Really? Really? I suspect that at least one of them actually wanted to come but was browbeaten by the other spouse. Don’t you think? Seriously, do you think Jesus would have approved?
Luckily, we don’t have any religious drama but Curly Girl is getting increasingly anxious that everything for her wedding “won’t be perfect.” I’ve tried to convince her that nothing is perfect and things won’t always go as planned, but it will still be great. And, often, those things that don’t work make the best stories later. As long as they both show up, there’s wine for me and the DJ plays Motown, it’ll be a wonderful occasion.
The bride is demanding that everyone has to wear black to the wedding to get in because “it’s a black-and-white wedding.” They said they’ll be providing black T-shirts for anyone who has the temerity to show up in another color. I think this is a bit much but — again — no one ever listens to me anyway. She wants to be the only vision in white floating down the aisle. Luckily, black is slimming, so almost everything I already own is in that color.
Some of you may remember that I used to write a deals column for the paper, which I miss doing. Now I’ve turned that ferocious obsession with frugality to having a fabulous wedding on the cheap. No evening of TV viewing is complete without simultaneous browsing on my phone for cheap-yet-classy decorations. My friend is lending me a sequined dress to wear. Yes, it’s black. And, no, I don’t really feel that I have to go shopping for a new “mother-of-the-bride” dress. I can use that money for a resort room on my next trip to Baja.
Email me if you like and tell me about your wedding drama. It might make it into a future column. Hit me up at mfisher@scng.com. And happy April!
